


The Power of Souls

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon Era, Confused Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Episode: s04e01-02 The Darkest Hour, Gen, Gods, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin has a gift, to harness the power of souls to keep the balance needed for life. So, when the Dorocha come, Merlin's got a plan.
Relationships: Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 410





	The Power of Souls

As always, it came down to the Old Religion. Merlin couldn’t defeat the Dorocha with his Magic, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t repair the Veil. Arthur intended to sacrifice his life, but Merlin had a gift, one far more powerful that his Magic.

It had started when he was younger. A bird had fallen from a tree, his wing broken and the poor thing was clearly in pain. Merlin had tried to make a splint, to help the poor creature, but his hands had been too clumsy and he’d accidentally pulled on the broken limb. The bird had squawked, before falling still in his hands, and the Warlock came to the conclusion that he’d killed it. His Mum had tried to comfort him in the following days, but Merlin was too busy crying.

His Magic had responded to the death in a very strange way. It was instinctive at the best of times, but following the bird incident, it became more temperamental. A new strength, spells that he had never been able to perfect suddenly becoming simple.

Whenever something died by Merlin’s hand, the Warlock became stronger. It was like he had stolen the lifeforce, the very energy, and the young-Merlin didn’t understand that. As he got older, as he learned of his Destiny, an understanding came.

The Old Religion wanted balance, a life for a life. It was why he had offered himself in return for Arthur’s life, it was an equilibrium that he didn’t want to disrupt.

So, Merlin could collect the energy of those that he killed. Kilgharrah had been surprised at that, had told him it was a gift he should never tell anyone about. Hunith knew, Gaius knew, and Merlin told Lancelot.

Taking someone’s life wasn’t something Merlin ever tried to do. But when he did, when he felt the rush of energy, it only lasted until he needed that energy for something. Like healing the shrivelled up plant sitting on his windowsill, or complicated spells that took too much energy.

When the Dorocha came for Camelot, and Merlin discovered he couldn’t use his magic, he decided to use the energy he’d been storing. A life for a life, to repair the veil, but he had killed multiple people. The thought was a horrifying one, that he was indeed a murderer, but he knew what he had to do.

Arthur was ready to sacrifice himself, and Merlin knew that Lancelot was plotting. The Knights of the Round Table faced the Cailleach, and the Goddess stared right back at them.

Merlin had spent his time in Camelot protecting Arthur, and this would be no different.

‘No.’

‘Merlin, I have to…’

‘I wasn’t talking to you.’ Merlin snapped, hating the way he spoke to Arthur, but knowing that this was necessary. He had to be cold, because if he thought about how much he wanted to stay with Arthur, he wouldn’t step out of the shadows.

‘I’m talking to the Cailleach.’ The Goddess of the Veil smiled slowly, while Arthur just looked baffled. The Knights of the Round Table would be confused, Lancelot looked ready to grab his arm, but Merlin knew what had to be done.

He could knock Arthur unconscious, but if he did, he’d still have to think of an excuse. A reason why they’d survive this.

‘Have you come to offer a sacrifice, Emrys?’ The use of his name wasn’t unexpected, but it did cause a reaction for two people in the group. Percival, Merlin had expected. The man had been raised in a Druid camp, so Merlin figured he’d recognise the name.

Gwaine, he hadn't expected. That betrayal stung badly, he knew that Gwaine was supposed to be one of his closest friends, and he should have trusted him.

‘I have. A life for a life.’

‘Merlin, what are you…’

‘Quiet, Pendragon. Your sacrifice is no longer needed.’ The Cailleach was curious, Merlin could tell. He supposed it was his ability to collect energy, to collect the dead.

‘Merlin?’ Arthur was looking hurt. Confused. Lost, and Merlin wanted to explain. But, unfortunately, the Cailleach beat him to it.

‘The offering that Emrys holds is much more tempting.’

‘You’re not taking him.’ Lancelot tried to move forward, but Merlin was quicker. He had time to apologise mentally, before his hand stretched out and his Magic pushed the Knights back, sending Arthur with them.

‘They call you the child of the Gods.’ The Cailleach stated, cocking her head to the side as Merlin circled her.

‘My title doesn’t matter. You’re not taking Arthur, nor any of the Knights.’ He took another step closer, reaching deep into his bones for the energy he’d kept there. It stirred, the death of the bandits that he’d dealt with last week, and an assassin that came into Camelot.

‘Your gift is quite… unique. Harnessing the dead, stealing their souls.’

‘But I have to kill to take it.’ He stated, stretching his hand out in offering. The Goddess shrugged, uncaring to his moral dilemma.

‘Is that not a common occurrence, when you’re sworn to your Princeling?’ It was. He hated it, but lots of people wanted Arthur dead.

‘Arthur is the greatest King that Albion had ever seen.’ Merlin stated firmly, knowing it was true.

‘The question is, was that your influence? Did you shape the King, or did the King shape you.’ It wasn’t a question, the Cailleach was trying to get into his mind. Trying to meddle with him, to hurt him, to make him doubt his loyalty to Arthur.

‘He’s always been a good man. I was just there to keep him safe.’

‘Which is why you have souls to offer me.’ A knife appeared in her hand, a dagger carved of what looked to be bone. It was engraved with runes of the Old Religion, symbols that he couldn’t ever understand.

‘A would-be assassin, and some bandits.’ He started to focus on pushing the energy down to his fingertips, shuddering as it was drawn to his hands.

‘This will hurt, Emrys.’

‘As long as Camelot is safe.’

The Goddess was right. It did hurt, it burned like fire as her hands reached out for him. He vaguely heard a scream ring out, echoing off the ruins, and it took him a moment to realise it was his own. Merlin may have killed these people, but it hurt to have them taken from him, to have the energy pulled out by the knife that ran along his forearms.

He could hear Arthur shouting for him. Was it out of anger, or concern? Did he want Merlin safe, or just wanted the honour of killing him himself?

His body was lurched forward, the Goddess smiling wickedly as yet more energy was sucked free, and the Warlock felt his limbs go weak.

‘An extra gift, Emrys?’ He didn’t ask, mostly because he couldn’t hear much over the sound of his heartbeat, over the ringing in his ears as his energy tried to close the veil.

‘A blackbird.’ She cooed, and Merlin forced his eyes to open.

He wasn’t standing in the ruins anymore, instead was standing under a tree cradling the tiny bird between his hands. The feathers ruffled as it breathed in and out, a fluttering pulse under his fingertips as he touched the bird.

Then, before he could even think to release it, his fingers clasped tightly. He heard the cracking sound of bones shattering, winced and tried to convince himself it wasn’t real.

‘The Veil accepts the sacrifice.’

His knees hit stone, the space in front empty of the Goddess that had been there just moments before. The Warlock had just enough energy to release the spell that had been holding back the Knights, let his body pitch forward onto the cold floor.

Strange, he could have sworn that the last thing he heard was the chirping of a blackbird.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk man, don't ask me where this came from


End file.
